


Dropping the Bomb (It Smells Like Lavender!)

by c0cunt



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, M/M, Marco Bott & Ymir Are Related, Mute Ymir (Shingeki no Kyojin), Reincarnation, Witch Historia, bath bombs, everything would've been okay if he just hecking listened to historia in the first place, marco just...doesn't listen to historia, mild nudity, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a very crappy two weeks, Marco needs to call his sister, Ymir, to fix the locks on his door.  She brings her girlfriend, Historia, who gives Marco a home made bath bomb to help him relax after the week he's had.  That's all that Marco was expecting, even after vaguely listening to Historia's warnings on how he should get a second set of clothes ready for after the bath.  What does one do when the toy inside the bath bomb turns into an actual person?  More importantly, what does Marco do when when he starts falling for this person who only exists because of Historia's magic?</p><p>For the SNK 2016 Minibang</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> howdy y'all!  
> first off, minibang!!!!!! this is the bath bombs fic I had been mulling over since May. Thanks to the minibang for kicking me off my ass, to get this written.
> 
> My minibang artists are: [smutindevelopment](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/), [vanitas--vanilla](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/), and [emelianss](http://emelianss.tumblr.com/)! They're all such lovely, talented artists, I literally screamed when I found out they had picked my fic to work with xD
> 
> Their art is going to be linked at the top of each chapter, and possibly will be inserted into the fic - haven't decided on that yet.
> 
>  
> 
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1 is here!](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)

  The past two weeks, for Marco, had been terrible.  His boyfriend of almost a year broke up with him on Monday (and became the boyfriend of someone else within an hour after dumping him).  That same day brought Marco into work very peeved, and he almost broke down when he saw the schedule for the next two weeks:  Not only were his normal days off missing, but he had both morning and evening shifts.  At least he did get Friday and Saturday off.  Just when it seemed like Marco could survive those two weeks, he came home just after midnight on the newly dawned Wednesday to absolute chaos.  Between leaving that Tuesday morning at 5am and coming home, his apartment had been broken into.  The robber seemed to have realized soon after breaking in that there was nothing of value in Marco’s apartment, and his things were tossed around like leaves in a tornado.  However, whomever had broken in seemed to find _some_ sort of value in Marco’s underwear drawer, which was completely emptied.  It weirded him out the most, since he didn’t actually pay attention to how many pairs of underwear he owned; what if the trespasser had taken a pair?  What does someone even _do_ with stolen underwear?  Marco wasn’t entirely sure, but what he was sure about was that they hadn’t broken in through the fire escape window (which he kept unlocked; however, the window was untouched).  The slightly ajar door when he had trudged down the apartment hallway to his apartment, as well as scratch marks around the keyhole, led him to believe that had been the point of entry.  So Marco did the logical thing:  He called Ymir at 1:03am and freaked out, before asking if she could install some new locks for him.

  Ymir showed up obscenely early on Friday morning, with her long-term girlfriend, Historia, tagging along.  Which wasn’t an issue at all:  Marco genuinely liked Historia, who gave him free samples and new test products from her Etsy store (which sold anything from bath bombs to graveyard dirt), but he really...Didn’t get her whole “magic” thing.  He did his best not to make fun of it, as Historia and her older half-sister Frieda were _very_ into magic, and he did try the herbal remedies that she would give to him, but he did tend to tune her out when she spoke about the “magical properties” of whatever he was given.  When good things happened after he used the moisturizer Historia gave him, that she said was imbued with luck and good fortune, Marco didn’t attribute it to the moisturizer.  It was just a day that had gone well, which lined up coincidentally with the use of said moisterizer.  He had to be careful with just how much he ignored Historia’s speeches with Ymir around, though:  Marco was almost convinced that Ymir believed Historia’s magic more than her girlfriend did sometimes.

  Historia bounced into Marco’s apartment, ridiculously bright eyed for such an early hour, with a plastic bag and a small cake in tow.  She immediately wiggled the plastic bag out of her elbow crease, where there was a dark mark against her pale skin, dropping it onto Marco’s coffee table while still balancing the cake.  Marco immediately zeroed in on the cake, popping the plastic lid off of it and brandishing a fork faster than Historia could say “hello”.  She listened patiently as Marco ranted to her about what had happened in the last two weeks, making sympathetic noises when appropriate each time Marco paused to shovel a bite of cake into his mouth.  Once he had run out of complaints and cake, Historia smiled sneakily (like she _knew_ she was going to be thanked later) as she dragged the plastic bag closer to them.  Ymir, who had been finished adding locks to Marco’s door for about five minutes and had been sprawled across the tiled kitchen floor, perked up when she heard the rustling of plastic.  Marco raised an eyebrow at Historia, as he attempted to scrape up all the little bits of frosting still left on his plate, when she pulled an absolutely _massive,_ pale purple bath bomb (with a darker purple mark in what looked to be the shape of two eighth notes) from the bag.

  “I made this when Ymmie told me how shitty your week had been,” Historia said brightly as she offered the bath bomb to Marco, who stared at it with absolute delight.  He loved using bath bombs, with their glitter and soothing scents, and he couldn’t wait to get the bath ready for using the ‘monster bomb’ (as his brain declared it to be).  Historia pressed it into his hands as she rattled on about the magical qualities that she had infused within the bomb.  Marco promptly zoned out, and rubbed his thumb over the eighth notes, wondering if the size meant that it would take forever to completely fizz out.  He did, however, snap right back to attention when Historia mentioned that it would be a good idea for him to have two towels and a second set of clothes ready after using that bath bomb.  So it was the perfect time for Marco to stop her rambling with his confusion.

  “Uh, wait, what?  You know I’d never use one of your bath bombs with someone else, and it’s not like I have anyone to share it with now…”  Marco knew he sounded bitter when he spoke, but he couldn’t really help it and he knew Historia wouldn’t resent him for it.  It’s not like any of them could’ve realized how much of a douchebag his ex was (even if Historia didn’t really seem all that warm and welcoming to him most of the time) before the past Monday had happened.  Historia just smiled at Marco, and patted his shoulder as she rose to join Ymir, who had been fidgeting by the front door since the bath bomb’s appearance.

  “Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” She paused for a second, a thoughtful look on her face, before continuing.  “You might wanna pick something smaller than what you usually wear for the second set of clothes though.  Maybe those jeans that you still have from high school?  Unless you ripped them since I last saw them in the back of your closet.  Why you keep trying to wear them when your thighs are thicker than trees is beyond me...Oh!  You’ll definitely want to wait until the bath bomb’s completely dissolved before getting in the tub with it.”  Nodding, with a slight smirk on her face and a quick wink, Historia headed out the front door with a wave of her hand.  With a snicker, Ymir tossed the new set of keys to Marco, who was spluttering indignantly at Historia’s dig at his jeans, before following her girlfriend.  Marco wasn’t prepared for key catching, defensively curling around the bath bomb instead of attempting to catch them, and they jangled merrily before hitting the floor.

  Frowning, Marco shuffled to the door and locked it behind them, the bath bomb tucked up underneath his armpit as he thought.  He _was_ kind of used to Historia giving him weird suggestions in tandem with the products she gave him (he still shuddered to think about the pickle cake), but usually she stuck around to explain _why_ before leaving.  The keys jangled loudly when he picked them up and threw them onto the coffee table, as he decided to just stop worrying about what Historia said.  He did, after all, have a new bath bomb to use in his stained old tub, and thinking about Historia’s weirdness wasn’t really something he wanted to do all day.  With a slight shrug, Marco padded into his cramped bathroom, carefully placing the bath bomb on top of the closed toilet lid, and scooted around the sink to stopper the tub and turn on the water as hot as it would go.

  Nodding at the steam that quickly rose from the tap, Marco scuttled out of the bathroom to collect a towel from the multipurpose closet in the hall.  On his way to his bedroom to collect clothes, he poked his head into the bathroom to assure himself that the tiny tub had yet to overflow (which it hadn’t).  In his room, with a clean pair of trunks and fleece pyjama pants in hand, Marco hesitated in front of his closet, knowing _exactly_ where the jeans Historia had been talking about were, thinking about her words.   _Why_ exactly did she think that it’d be a good idea to have a second pair of clothes?  Couldn’t she have been a little less weird with her instructions, and at least _tell_ him why it was a good idea?  Hadn’t she, once upon a time, said that Frieda was _much_ more vague and cryptic than herself?  Did her sister’s vagueness just start rubbing off on her after spending the past month visiting Frieda?

  Snorting at his own stupidity (there was _no reason_ to get a second set of clothes, Historia was just pulling his leg), Marco sauntered back into the bathroom, only to yelp and dive for the faucet when he saw just how high the water had gotten while he had been thinking.  He stared mournfully at the high water, knowing that if he attempted to get it, that the floor would be flooded...With a sad sigh, he reached through the almost painfully hot water (just the way he liked it) to drain the tub a little.  Alternating between glaring at the peeling wallpaper and squinting at the slowly descending waterline, Marco made a note to later attempt to try and unclog the drain a bit more sometime in the next day or so.  He hadn’t had the chance to do so in a while, and he _knew_ there had to be a hairball or something down there with his plunger’s name on it; if he wanted to take a shower without having water up to his ankles, it had to be done soon.  Which was another thing he really didn’t want to be doing on one of the few days off he had.  But Marco perked up when he realized the water had gotten low enough that it wouldn’t overflow when he got in, and he stoppered the tub quickly, nearly bouncing with excitement.  He twisted back around the sink awkwardly (instead of getting up like a normal person) to reach the bath bomb that was still sitting on the toilet lid, and squirmed excitedly as he carefully lifted it over.

  Marco rubbed his thumb over the double eighth notes again, before slowly lowering the bath bomb into the the tub.  It fizzed violently, the water quickly turning a pale lavender as Marco whooped and leaned closer.  The smell of lavender and vanilla was almost too strong, as he leaned his chin into his crossed arms as he watched.  Before long, all of the water was lavender and Marco could barely see the fizzer, the dark shape that was left seeming to split open.  He was overwhelmed by the need to sneeze, and he turned away to avoid cracking his nose against the tub.  The loud snorting sound of his sneeze did _not_ cover up the loud sound, like a firecracker, that came from the tub, and it was over way too soon to cover the sudden sounds of water sloshing as if Marco had jumped in.  However, nothing could’ve prepared Marco for the feeling of a wet hand slapping against his own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning y'all! i'm apparently in a habit of posting before classes, which means that this one & the one on Thursday will be super early so my eyeballs are still mildly glued together from sleep
> 
> anyways!!! here u go friends, have at it.
> 
> once again, links to the lovely art from [smutindevelopment for chapter 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up), and [vanitas--vanilla's art for chapter 8~](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)
> 
> [artwork for chapter 2 by smutindevelopment~](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)

   With a yelp, Marco scrambled back, nearly knocking his head into the sink behind him as he tried to get as far away from the tub as physically possible.  There was a spluttering, indignant sort of noise from the tub, as whomever appeared (??? out of thin air???) in the tub sat up properly.  They looked confused, but nowhere near freaked out like Marco felt, before lifting a pale leg to stare delightedly at the appendage.  The stranger in his tub (who Marco was going to assume was a guy, based on his lack of breasts) cocked their head to one side as they looked at their other leg, wiggling their toes almost excitedly, the lavender water having tinted their slicked back blonde hair slightly purple.  They then squinted as they looked around the bathroom, hazel eyes unsure of their new surroundings, before they focused on Marco.  They stared at him for a few heartbeats, their face going through emotions faster than toilet paper (from delight, to relief, and then to pain), before looking back down at the purple water and swirling their fingers almost absentmindedly.  Marco’s mouth flapped open and shut a few times, before he finally found his voice.

   “Wh-what in the fuck?  Who are you, and what are you doing in my bathtub?  More importantly,  _ how _ did you get into my bathtub?”

   The stranger smiled softly, but the pained look was back on their face as they snorted slightly at Marco before speaking.  “M’name’s Jean,” He pronounced it carefully, voice raspy from disuse, and Marco made a note to not say it wrong.  “Short little blondie called Historia?  She said I’d be sticking around here for awhile, while they sort out my papers ‘n shit…”  He trailed off with a slight shrug, and forced what Marco assumed was supposed to be a smile onto his face, but it looked more than a little painful, before his face fell back into a mixture of happy and sad when his eyes dropped back to the bathwater.  Marco messily ran both his hands through his hair, disbelief plain on his face as he tried to process what Jean had said.  There was no way that Historia could just... _ Magic _ someone into existence, right?  Especially not from a damn bath bomb?  How was this possible?  Marco almost snorted as his brain quickly supplied  _ magic, _ before he shook his head.  He knew  _ exactly _ who to call now, and he scrambled out of the bathroom as quickly as he could, not bothering to reply as Jean called after him.

   He had left his phone in the kitchen, right?  He couldn’t exactly remember where it was, it could’ve been piled underneath a stack of laundry in his messy room for all he knew.  But Marco tried the kitchen first, if only for a reason to shove his head into the freezer and hope it would fix his problems.  He stayed there for what could’ve been a few minutes, before the echoing sound of sloshing and a confused “uhm…” reached him.  Marco nearly smacked his head into the freezer door in his mad dash to make sure Jean wasn’t going to attempt to follow him and drip water all over the goddamn place.  Marco did at least spot his phone on the far counter by the sink, and snatched it up, nearly smacking the bathroom door into Jean’s face as he returned.  (Jean had, almost childishly, poked his head around the door to see what Marco was doing, but had not left the bathroom himself.)  Marco couldn’t help frowning slightly as he looked over Jean’s skinny frame, before he bodily wrapped the large towel around Jean.  He then pointed at the toilet for Jean to sit, as he unlocked his phone.  Jean let out an irritated huff, mumbling mutinously about how a guest is supposed to be treated, but he did obediently sit down, which made Marco force out a small smile (that was more like a grimace) as he tapped Historia’s number to make the call.  He put it on speaker, so that they both could hear what was going on, and it only took a minute before the call connected.

   “Hey Marco, did you like the bath bomb I made you?”  Historia’s voice chirped over, slightly crackling but sounding smug as all hell.  Jean seemed the tiniest bit relieved to hear her voice, at least.

   “Historia, why is there a naked man, who isn’t me, in my bathroom?”  Marco asked as calmly as he could.  His face dropped into a frown as Historia laughed at him, the sound a bit corrupted by the cheap phone.

   “I  _ told you _ this was going to happen, why’re you so surprised?  Unless, y’know, you weren’t listening to me.  Again.”  She said it blandly, and Marco couldn’t help feeling bad about ignoring her lectures.  But he didn’t think he would need to listen to something that was so illogical!  However, he was still annoyed, and he needed answers, so he pressed forward with the conversation.

   “Yes, I didn’t listen, but why is he here?  What sort of magic mumbo jumbo did you do?  He isn’t like...A real person, is he?”  Marco asked weakly, feeling a bit of panic start to settle in as he looked down at Jean, who glared back up at him defiantly.  The effect was sort of ruined, however, as he rubbed the extra length of towel that was not wrapped around his waist, over his hair, which then stuck up like a wet porcupine.  Even Historia, who was used to putting up with bullshit, sounded exasperated.

   “Don’t be rude to Jean because you’re pissy about not actually listening when I tell you something.  For the record, he  _ is _ a real person, just...He wasn’t really real  _ here, _ before you dropped the bath bomb.  It took a lot of finagling, but Frieda taught me how to place people who hadn’t existed in our dimension, but were on the edges of their own, into an object.  I put Jean into one of those old My Little Pony plastic doll-horse things, and put that into your bath bomb.  I had...A feeling that the pair of you would get along, you had a shitty week and he needed a place to stay while we get his papers sorted, so…”  Historia trailed off, and Marco could imagine her waving her hand in an all-encompassing gesture that she was fond of using frequently.

   Marco wasn’t even going to attempt to puzzle that one out, so he put the concepts of Historia pulling Jean from the edge of “his own dimension” and putting him “into” an object in their “own” as something to ask about at a later time.  None of what Historia usually says or does as far as magic is concerned didn’t make sense, so it almost made sense when it didn’t?  Marco wasn’t exactly sure, but he could feel a headache coming on, even though he had one more question on his mind.

   “Is he stuck here forever?  Or does he like...Have to go back home at some point?”  If there was any way that Jean could frown harder at Marco, he did so then, but Marco was too busy staring determinedly at a smudge on his phone’s screen.

   “Nope,” Historia popped the last syllable, “His place in the other dimension is gone.  As I said, we’ve started to get his papers together for him to legally be a person, but it’s gonna take at least a week, even with the help I have.  Can you let him know that he’s going to have the same last name as he did?  After that, we’ll set him up at Smith’s, and he’ll be out of your hair.  Or, I guess, he could stay with me and Ymmie while we do the paper shuffle.”

   Jean’s eyes were wide, almost with surprise, as he shook his head roughly, splashing Marco with wayward water drops that still clung to his hair.  Marco could barely suppress a giggle, before relaying Jean’s reaction.

   “I get the feeling that he wouldn’t really wanna stay with you two, so I guess he’s here, for now.”  Marco sighed slightly, wishing he could muster up a glare as potent as Ymir’s when Historia cheered loudly on the other end of the connection.  Jean didn’t exactly look pleased either, more of an angry resting face as he thought and twisted the edge of his towel as Marco ended the call.

   There was silence between the two men once the call ended, unsure of what to do, as Marco stared down at Jean.  The other man was...Smaller than Marco, but that may have just been from the bathwater, as people generally looked smaller and more vulnerable when they were wet and naked in a stranger’s bathroom.  But it was obvious, from the wiry, well-defined muscles that shifted underneath his skin, Jean was powerful.  Marco almost felt bad for staring, but Jean was staring right back at him, with that same look that seemed to be the theme of the day.  Marco twitched anxiously, feeling like a bug under a microscope with Jean’s sharp gaze trained on him, scuttling around the sink to drain the tub.  He sighed almost mournfully as the purple water slowly drained; there was no way he could’ve enjoyed a bath now.

   “Your name is Marco Bodt.”  Jean said, even though it should’ve been a question.  Marco nodded, and Jean cleared his throat, as he scooted around the toilet (practically straddling Jean’s lower half, with his butt in the other man’s face), on a mission to fetch those jeans and a t-shirt for his...New companion?  Friend?  Temporary roommate?  Whatever Jean was to him, Marco was going to get him clothes.  Probably ill-fitting clothes, for now, but he knew he’d have to get Jean something he could actually wear outside that wasn’t a hand-me-down. Or, well, at least a hand-me-down that wasn’t two or three sizes too big.

   It took Marco longer than he had thought it would to find those jeans, that he distinctly remembered shoving into the back of his closet after hearing a stitch sound dangerously close to ripping when he had them halfway over his left thigh, but he did find them.  He debated grabbing a pair of socks for Jean, before deciding against it; Marco’s shoes were too large for Jean’s feet, probably, so the other man would be stuck in sandals until they got shoes that fit him properly.  But Marco did grab one of his older shirts for Jean to wear, pretty certain that the tight shirt would fit decently.  (One of his older shirts without holes!  That even smelled pretty clean!  What a feat that was, with Marco’s dirty laundry overflowing out of the basket and spilling roughly everywhere in his room.  He hadn’t had much time to do things like ‘laundry’ when all he could do was eat-sleep-work for the past two weeks, but he promised himself that the laundry would get done  _ very _ soon.)  

   The bathroom door was exactly as Marco had left it, but Jean was no longer seated.  Instead, his head was poked into the medicine cabinet, the towel slung low over sharp hips that made Marco’s mouth a little bit drier.  Before Marco could get too thirsty, he was distracted by the lines of bruises and scars that twisted around Jean’s torso.  The bruises seemed to follow some sort of pattern, but the scars...A lot of them were pale with age, looking just a bit  _ off _ when compared to the paleness of Jean’s unmarked skin.  He didn’t want to pry, so he shook himself out of the weird admiring thing that he was doing unconsciously (he didn’t want to make the poor guy uncomfortable, stuck for at least a week with a stranger as he was), and cleared his throat as he held out the bundle of clothes for Jean.

   “Er, sorry, I think these’ll fit you?  I don’t have any underwear you can use, you’re a damn lot smaller than I am, plus it’s kinda weird to lend out underwear?  Anyways, throw that on and we can go buy you some clothes that properly fit,” Marco rambled as Jean slowly took the bundle of clothes offered to him.  He seemed fascinated by how  _ soft _ the t-shirt was, and he looked positively delighted as he pulled it over his head.  Marco barely had a second to advert his eyes when Jean carelessly let the towel drop, as he attempted to shimmy into the rough denim with his lower body still mostly wet.

   “Historia did warn me that the clothes here are a lot different than where I’m from,” Jean said conversationally as he danced into Marco’s old jeans, which did not seem to want to go higher than mid-thigh.  “So like - shit, these are tight as balls - explain sizes and shit to me?”  Jean grumbled the question under his breath.  He let out a delighted sigh as he finally got the pants on properly, and Marco figured this was his slightly nonverbal cue that meant he was allowed to look at his houseguest again.

   “I guess I can try to explain on the way there...” Marco mumbled distractedly, already patting his pockets for his keys, and turning back to where he remembered placing them in the living room.  Jean easily loped after him, leaving the towel bundled up behind the door with no real indication of where else to put it.  As he followed Marco, his eyes drifted from light switches (he had figured that out while Marco was getting the clothes he was wearing), to what he assumed was a TV from the description Historia had given him, propped up on what had once been a bedside table.  He was vaguely listening to what Marco was saying, and obediently slid his feet into the thin plastic sandals that were dropped at his feet.  His toes curled experimentally at the new texture underfoot, shuffling closely after Marco, wary but kind of excited to learn about everything this dimension had to offer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning! another early chapter, though tomorrow I might post a bit later. i've been running low on sleep lately, so...
> 
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3 is here!](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)
> 
> anyways! the gorgeous art that's been created for this fic<3  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)

   Marco was absolutely exhausted.  Shopping, especially clothes shopping, like he had been for the past three hours with Jean, knocked all the energy out of him normally.  But, having to explain things that he took for granted daily, like automatic doors, to Jean (who jumped in surprised and looked around critically, search for the invisible door opener) was something he hadn’t expected.  Nor had he expected to explain to Jean that underwear that covered down to a person’s knees was not typical anymore (unless, Marco had amended his statement, they were going to go somewhere that had  _ very _ cold weather).  He had almost laughed when telling Jean that a tank top and shorts were not considered indecent, though he really did laugh when Jean enthusiastically grabbed a shirt that said “sun’s out guns out”.  Jean had wandered off somewhere as Marco paid, tiredly smiling as politely as possible as he mumbled out answers to the cashier’s questions.  It wasn’t too much of a hunt to find Jean:  He had wandered back over to women’s wear, a hand sliding along the fabric of the light dresses that hung from the mannequins.  He almost looked disappointed when Marco said it was time to go, but he followed Marco docilely out the shop.  Marco looked at all the bags they now had, new clothes that needed to be cleaned before wearing them, and sighed.

   “...So I guess we definitely gotta go do laundry,” Marco grumbled as he and Jean shoved the last bag into his car’s trunk.  The trunk was slammed down, and Marco leaned against it heavily for a second, before waving a pouting Jean into the front passenger seat.  Just  _ getting _ Jean into the car earlier had been an adventure, but he seemed more agreeable now, easily slipping in and buckling up without Marco having to prompt him to do so.  But the mention of laundry had caused Jean to let out a long, low wail that only increased in volume when Marco slipped into the driver’s seat.

   “I  _ hate _ doing laundry,” Jean groused, folding his arms across his chest as Marco fumbled with the keys.  

   “Well, too bad.  I need to do laundry, and your new shit needs to be washed, so suck it the fuck up.”  Marco snapped, the keys that stubbornly did not want to get into the ignition slipping out of his hand with another curse.  He glared down at where the keys had disappeared for a second, eyes snapping over to Jean when he let out a small noise that was probably roughly translated into ‘oh no’.  This day was going  _ a lot _ less relaxing and peaceful than Marco had hoped, since Historia had pressed the bath bomb into his hands earlier.

   “We are going to stop back at my apartment, grab my dirty laundry and detergent, and then we are doing.  Fucking.  Laundry.  And you will  _ not _ complain about  _ any _ of this because this is one of my two goddamn days off in  _ weeks, _ and it was  _ supposed to be _ relaxing.  Until  _ you _ showed up.”  Marco hadn’t realized how loud he was in the confined space, until he stopped yelling, and they were both immediately engulfed in ringing silence, the look on Jean’s face making him regret the words he had blurted out.  Marco slowly deflated, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he shook his head.

   “Shit, I...I’m so sorry about that, you didn’t deserve any of that,” Marco squeezed his eyes shut as well, slowly unpeeling his fingers from the wheel to rest in his lap.  “I’m stressed, and I’m tired, but that’s no reason for me to’ve taken it out on you.”  Marco breathed out a long sigh, lightly bouncing his head against the seat behind him.  He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, allowing himself to relax against the fabric seats for a second, before looking over at Jean, who was watching him warily even as he nodded to accept Marco’s apology.  

   “I’ll introduce you to the washing machine,” Marco breathed a laugh as he shoved his seat back, hoping to find the keys quickly.  He may have stuck his hand into something questionable that was stuck between the middle console and his seat, but at least he found his keys quickly.  An even greater victory was the car starting easily, and he confidently reversed out of the parking spot after barely checking for pedestrians.  Marco couldn’t really spend the entire time watching Jean as he drove, but he was pretty sure that the other man frowned slightly and kept mouthing the words “washing machine” at random intervals on their way back to his apartment.  It was kind of adorable, and each time Marco saw it, it made his heart melt just a tiny bit more.

 

* * *

  
  


   The laundromat did not have air conditioning.  Marco knew this, and was prepared for it, but he was still disappointed when the expected blast of cool air, when Sasha opened the door for him, did not happen.  She had smiled at him sort of understandingly (how Sasha was able to survive working eight hours a day at the place, with no air conditioning, was beyond Marco), and looked like she was going to start razzing him for waiting so long to do laundry again.  But she then caught sight of Jean, who was close behind Marco, and carrying several more full laundry bags, and her jaw snapped shut.  She looked surprised, or sad, Marco wasn’t entirely sure which, but she patted his shoulder as he walked past and thanked her, and she held the door for Jean as well, so Marco didn’t really feel the need to  _ know _ what she was thinking.  Sasha was definitely one of his friends, but he really just wanted to get all of their laundry done as soon as possible, and he was almost glad that she was uncharacteristically silent.  As Marco selected a row of washing machines, thankful for once that the lack of air conditioning made most people avoid coming to this particular laundromat in the middle of the day, Jean let out a quiet whistle as he craned his neck to check out the place.

   “This is so weird, like a good weird I think?  It’s different, I’ve never seen a machine like this in my life!  So you feed it money and it does the thing?”  Jean asked, hopping around like an excited bird as he inspected the machines that lined the walls, wide eyed with delight as he poked at the coin return slot.  He was keeping his voice down at least, but Marco couldn’t help anxiously looking over at Sasha (the only other person in the shop) to make sure that she wasn’t listening to Jean’s stream of conscious babbling.  She didn’t appear to be, tiny headphones back over her ears, and that made Marco relax a little bit, texting rapidly in between each shirt she folded.  Still, he kept his voice only barely louder than the dull roaring of the machines after he fed coins into them.

   “Basically, yeah.  They need electricity to work, as well as a waterline connection.”  Marco said simply, gesturing to the clear front of the machine as water began to fill it.  Jean stared at it, open mouthed, as it started to spin, suds splashing up as the clothes started spinning inside.  Marco figured that, maybe one day, he’d explain that these machines were different from the ones that some people could afford to keep in their own homes, needing money to operate instead of automatically doing so.  He was about to settle himself down with a book, when Sasha tapped at his shoulder hesitantly, and motioned for him to follow her.  After a quick glance to make sure that Jean was still enamored with the washing machine (he was), Marco followed her, eyebrows raised as Sasha twirled her sweaty hair before she spoke.

   “Historia used her magic and grabbed him from the other universe, didn’t she?”  Sasha asked without preamble.  Marco wasn’t sure how to react, eyes flicking back over to Jean and wondering if his friend was threatening him.  She let out a sharp bark of a laugh at Marco’s obvious concern, and shook her head.  “Tori did the same for Connie, that’s how I figured that out,” She explained with a smile, leaning back against one of the unstacked machines, and oh, that made sense.  Connie Springer, Sasha’s best friend and roommate, did seem to almost come out of nowhere a few years back, and hadn’t seemed up-to-date on technology and fashion and things like that.  All Marco could do was nod almost sheepishly, which, surprisingly enough, only made Sasha sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose.

   “Tsk.  Well, I hope that Tori’s got a better game plan to get Jean situated than she and her associates had for Connie,” She grumbled, nearly spitting the word ‘associates’.  Marco, being completely in the dark about what Connie’s plan to to get situated had been, and not knowing what Jean’s was, didn’t have anything to say on that.  Which meant that he immediately blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

   “Wait.  You’re telling me that Jean and Connie are from the same...Dimension?  Universe?  Whatever the heck it is?  Did they, y’know, know each other?”  Marco asked, keeping his voice low.  He didn’t really want Jean to wonder about what they were talking about, since it was very specifically about  _ him, _ but Sasha didn’t seem all that concerned.  She let out a loud, snorting laugh that bounced around the room as she nodding enthusiastically, somehow  _ still _ not attracting Jean’s attention.

   “Knew each other?  Marmar, they were best buddies, especially after…”  She trailed off, and didn’t seem to want to meet Marco’s eyes for a second, frowning widely.  Before Marco could prompt her to continue, she shook the frown off of her face and traded it for a very forced looking smile.  Without another word on the conversation they’d been having, she patted Marco’s arm and headed back to the table loaded with laundry yet to be folded.  Apparently not a second too soon, as the washing machines he and Jean were using finished their cycle, and Jean was blinking himself out of the trance he’d been in.  Marco took that as his cue to go over and explain the other half of the machines in the laundromat, even though normally he would just go home and string up his wet clothes and wait for them to dry.  But, he figured, as he jingled his pocketful of coins, Jean should get to know all of this universe’s modern conveniences.  Maybe Marco could scrounge up the money to get themselves takeout later?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning!!! i got four hours of sleep, i have class in two hours, and my knees are screaming. but here's chapter 4!!!
> 
> previous art:  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)

   “You go ahead and start eating,” Marco said as he placed the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, Jean circling like a well-dressed shark (his new clothes really  _ did _ suit his body  _ much _ better than Marco’s old hand-me-downs did).  “I’ve got a phone call to make, just don’t eat all the pizza, okay?”  Marco couldn’t help chuckling as he flipped the lid of the top pizza box open, delightedly humming as the smell of cheese and sauce permeated the room.  It was just plain cheese pizza, but Jean looked almost reverent as he cautiously pulled apart the crusts.  He nodded absentmindedly a few seconds later, frowning as the cheese from his slice refused to come with the crust.  If Marco wasn’t going to call out of work for the next week, and then talk Connie into coming over (without mentioning Jean; Connie could be tempted to come over with just the knowledge that there was pizza), he would’ve gone to try and help Jean.  But he was sure that Jean could handle a slice of pizza by himself, as Marco headed into his room for a tiny bit of privacy.

   Even over the phone, Mr. Shadis had an intimidating presence.  Marco almost hung up twice before actually letting the call connect, and even then he sort of mumbled his way through vaguely saying there was a family emergency and he needed the following week off.  (He mentally mourned the money he wouldn’t be earning, but Jean needed him more than Marco needed that paycheck.)  Shadis was very understanding, and he even found a way for none of Marco’s sick or vacation days to be used after the fiasco of the last two weeks.  Marco was almost too stunned to thank him, who only said it was the least he could do after that mess, and promptly hung up.  This was the start of a surreal week, Marco decided with a tiny laugh, as he pulled up Connie’s number on his phone.  He was beaten to the punch, however, as his phone started buzzing in his hand, a call from Connie that was quickly accepted.

   “Hey, I was just about to call you,” Marco said cheerfully.  Connie let out a noise that could’ve been either a strained laugh, or a weird whining noise in response.

   “Sasha told me what’s happening, I’m coming over,” Connie said shortly.  He sounded somewhere between anxious and excited, and Marco would’ve attempted to make Connie less anxious, if he hadn’t hung up.  Which, that was normal for Connie, he’d never really gotten the hang of texting.  He preferred to call for even short one-word answered questions.  But it was kind of strange for him to not even had said something along the lines of “see you soon”.  Maybe Marco was making more out of it than was necessary, as he wondered if he should warn Jean about his friend coming.

   With a sigh, Marco trudged back into the living room, just in time to see Jean accidentally drop the cheese from his pizza slice onto his face.  That immediately brightened Marco’s mood, and he covered his laughter with fake coughing, intent on getting himself a slice of pizza from the bottom box (mushrooms, his favorite topping).  He did, however, pass Jean a napkin, that was taken with a blush and a mumble that could’ve been ‘thank you’ if Marco tried really hard to hear it.  While Jean wiped his face, Marco grabbed a glass of lemonade, before flopping heavily onto the unoccupied half of the loveseat, next to Jean.  Marco had just barely sunk his teeth into his pizza slice for the first bite, when someone felt the need to attempt to beat down his front door.  Jean was immediately on his feet, pizza completely forgotten, as he reached for nothing at his hips, and Marco groaned in annoyance.  Was getting through one slice of pizza before being interrupted too much to ask for?

   “S’not locked, come on in,” Marco called around his mouthful of pizza.  Before the words were even halfway out of his mouth, Connie Springer had already smashed the door in, nearly getting smacked in the face when the door rebounded off of the wall bumper.  Marco rose to close the door behind Connie, who had taken a few steps into the apartment, but froze when he saw Jean, who looked just as shocked to see Connie.  Jean blinked rapidly as Connie moved on jelly-like legs until he was standing directly in front of him.  Marco wasn’t sure if he should say something, wondering if letting Connie come over so soon was really a good idea, especially as Jean let out a choked sort of noise.  Jean reached out with a shaking hand to pat at Connie’s left arm, somewhere caught between reverent and suspicious, as if he was ready to imagine it being an illusion.  Connie let out a tiny choked laugh as Jean’s other hand joined the one on Connie’s arm, and moved down his side, before shakily tilting Connie’s head gently, searching for damage that had never existed in this dimension.

   “Don’t you fucking laugh at me, you asshole,” Jean snapped as he spun Connie around.  That just made him giggle more, until Jean had turned spun him around again, and he pulled Jean into one of his famous rib-cracking hugs that knocked the wind out of Jean.

   “Took your lazy ass long enough to get here,” Connie mumbled into Jean’s shoulder, where he had pressed his face up into.  Jean let out a strangled sort of sound that could’ve been an attempt at a laugh, wiggling his arms out from where they had been pinned so he could hug his best friend back.  Marco, unsure of what to do, and not wanting to interrupt their moment, quietly tiptoed over to the loveseat to finish his slice of pizza, doing his best to be as unobtrusive as possible.  Jean mumbled something into Connie’s shoulder, and Marco was  _ not _ trying to hear.  (He could deny it as much as he wanted, but he was trying to listen:  It almost sounded like Jean had said “didn’t know how to get here”, which made a lot more sense than anything he’d experienced in the past few days.)  It took a few minutes of standing there, shaking slightly as Connie’s hand rubbed Jean’s back soothingly, before he lifted his head from Connie’s shoulder, blinking tears out of his eyes as something suddenly occurred to him.

   “But...The titans...?”  Jean asked warily, eyes suddenly darting around as if expecting to see some monster break in.

   “I don’t think they’ve ever existed here, like ever.  Only titans here are in like, ancient myths and shit,” Connie said with a shrug.  That didn’t seem to placate Jean, who continued to look around as if expecting the world to collapse around him.  Sympathetically, Connie put an arm around Jean’s shoulder, and gently shook him, before speaking again.

   “But hey!  Good news is, everyone we knew is here!  Like, most of them don’t remember, but like...Hey, we have Marco!”  Connie grinned up at his best friend, who perked up at the mention of Marco’s name.  Jean looked over at Marco, who was staring off into space as he absentmindedly nibbled on a bite of pizza crust from his second slice, and couldn’t help a soft smile as well.

   “Yeah...We have Marco…”  Jean said softly, almost awestruck, as if he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around that.  Connie nodded before he dragged Jean over to the loveseat and shoved him down, and dashed into the kitchen to grab the pizza boxes.  He dropped the boxes onto the coffee table, and settled on the floor between Marco’s and Jean’s legs after wrangling a slice of pepperoni pizza from the last unopened box.  

   “Hey Marco, can we watch that cartoon thing you were telling me about?  With the magic lions and shit?”  Connie asked around his first bite of pizza.  Marco let out a snort as he got up to get his old laptop, wiping his hands on his pants as he shoved the last bite of crust into his mouth.  Connie was rambling to a confused Jean about how even though the cartoon was  _ technically _ a new series, it was a reboot of a cartoon a few decades ago, and that they were going to watch it courtesy of Sasha’s Netflix account.

   Marco lost track of their conversation as he shuffled around his room, before being struck by the realization that he didn’t have a place for Jean to sleep.  The loveseat was way too small (though Connie had slept on it a few times and deemed it decent enough) for someone Jean’s size, and setting up a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor for him just...Didn’t sit right with Marco.  And, well, he  _ did _ have a queen sized bed...But would Jean even  _ want _ to share the bed with him?  He could always just suggest it at least, and when Jean would inevitably say no, Marco could always dig out the sleeping bag that Ymir had insisted on him keeping when they were splitting their stuff ages ago, when Ymir had first moved in with Historia after sharing an apartment with him.  Or, well, Marco could take the loveseat, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Marco would let a guest  _ not _ sleep in a bed.  That was just rude.

   Maybe he should change the sheets on his bed.  That’d probably be a good idea, right?  No one wanted to sleep on gross sheets that hadn’t been changed in...How long had it been since Marco had changed them?  Marco frowned as he eyeballed his bed suspiciously.  It had to’ve at least been a month ago, which was kinda gross.  He’d definitely have to change them for Jean...And get him a pillow to use, too.  Marco was pretty sure that no one would want to use a pillow that he’d drooled on.

   With that thought in his head, Marco went from digging in his drawers for the old laptop, to standing on tiptoes to see what was on his closet shelves.  He  _ knew _ he had a brand new pillow somewhere, as well as fresh sheets, but he wasn’t exactly sure where they were.  Probably shoved into the back corner of one of the shelves.  Nodding, he squeezed his way into the right side of his closet, standing on something on the floor that he hoped could hold his weight (it felt like a box, and that should hold, right?), balancing with a hand against the wall as he searched the top shelf.  The shopping bag with a new pillow in it was a foot or so to his left, and the sheets were probably right behind it.

   “Hey Marco?  Didya get lost or something?”  Connie joked loudly from the doorway to Marco’s room, Jean hovering a few steps behind him.  Of course, Marco wasn’t expecting the sound as he grabbed the shopping bag with the pillow, and he startled violently, and whatever he had been standing on crumpled underneath his weight.  With a loud yelp, Marco crashed into the tension rod he had been using as a clothes rack, taking the bag down as well (but thankfully not taking the shelves down).  Jean moved faster than Connie, darting over to the open closet to see Marco sprawled on his back as he groaned and shifted off the pile of clothes and broken hangers.  Connie was cackling before he was anywhere near the closet, a shit-eating grin on his face as Marco glared up at him and then casually flipped him off.

   “Bro, why’re you in the closet?  Didn’t you come out like, ages ago?”  Connie snarked, earning an annoyed groan and the pillow Marco still held being thrown in Connie’s general direction.  Which only made Connie cackle harder, leaning against Jean for support, who was blinking widely and seemed unsure of what to do.  Marco rolled his eyes before rolling onto his hands and knees, and crawling out of the closet, flinching at the crunching of broken hangers underneath him.  As soon as Marco was out of the closet, Jean hauled him to his feet and started looking him over critically, as if expecting gaping wounds to’ve appeared.  Marco couldn’t help a soft smile as he gently shook his way out of Jean’s grip, and ran a hand through his hair.

   “I got a bit sidetracked,” Marco said with a slight laugh as he picked the pillow up from where it had landed.  “Sorry about that, but I can set you two up with the laptop while I clean this mess up…”  Marco trailed off, grimacing at the mess on his closet floor.  Connie’s eyes flickered over to Jean, who looked more than a little anxious as he shuffled his feet, clearly torn between wanting to hang out with Connie and be with Marco at the same time.

   “Nah, it’s okay,” Connie said easily, checking the time on his phone.  “It’s a bit late, and Sasha still doesn’t really trust me driving around at night, y’know?”  He flashed his friends a winning smile, that Marco returned slightly as Jean’s eyebrows raised.  Connie dragged Marco in a quick hug, before crushing Jean again as he protested weakly.  Connie rolled his eyes at Jean as he left, locking the door behind him.  He really didn’t  _ have _ to go, Sasha trusted his driving skills more than she used to, but he figured that he could call in a favor from Jean eventually.  Maybe after the two of them made up for the time they’d lost, Connie mused, as he bounced out of the apartment building.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh, morning again! I got a lot of good sleep last night (though I did fall out of bed at 2am bc I needed to pee and forgot that my dorm bed is like, four feet off the ground, so my leg's a bit messed up right now), and I hope y'all did too! ^-^
> 
> artwork featured for this chapter:  
> [art by emelianss](http://emelianss.tumblr.com/post/149952558951/yoo-here-it-is-finally-my-first-drawing-for-the)
> 
> the lovely, amazing art so far:  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)

   Jean was quiet as he picked through the clothes on the floor, pulling fragments of broken hangers out of each garment.  Jean had volunteered to help, and Marco couldn’t really deny it.  It had, after all, taken him about ten minutes to reaffix the tension rod as it had been, and it would be nice to finish up sooner instead of later.  However, each time he went to help Jean with the pile, Jean slapped his hands away and shoved clothes that no longer had plastic bits into his hands, insisting that he could do this on his own.  It only took three seconds to fold the clothes that were clean, and, not wanting to stand around doing nothing, Marco was soon back in the closet, looking for those sheets he  _ knew _ had to be around there somewhere.  The solid, dark blue sheets were folded neatly, directly underneath where the pillow had been, and Marco mentally thanked Ymir for insisting on him getting sheets that wouldn’t be embarrassing.  Past-Marco had even done current-Marco a favor, and had safety pinned a note with the word  _ clean _ scribbled on it.

   “I was scared,” Jean said suddenly, breaking the silence that had reigned as Marco clambered out of the closet.  Marco blinked rapidly at Jean, who was twisting one of his older sweatshirts into a crumpled ball.  Tossing the sheets onto his bed, Marco let out an encouraging noise as he started to strip the dirty sheets off.  Jean huffed slightly, looking up from the sweatshirt in his hands to watch Marco twist and bend, eyes glazing over for a second as he lost his train of thought.  When Marco looked over his shoulder back at Jean, he shook himself slightly and stared back down at the sweatshirt, gathering his thoughts as well as the soft fabric in his hands.

   “When you fell earlier...I was scared,” Jean said again, quieter this time.  Marco looked away from the pile of sheets that he’d wrestled off at last, frowning at how Jean seemed to be shrinking in on himself.  He carelessly tossed the dirty sheets into a pile near the empty laundry basket, and settled on the floor a few feet away from Jean.  When the other man didn’t speak, Marco let out a soft, questioning “oh?”, that made Jean’s eyes flick up at him, before immediately snapping away as he picked at a string that was sticking out of the shirt in his hands.

   “I...Where I’m from, a lot of my friends…” Jean spoke haltingly, and huffed loudly at himself, before starting again.  “We all joined the military, when we were twelve.  We were at war, with the titans, and I had wanted to join the MP.  Money and wealth without being on the front lines, at risk, y’know?  But...There was this boy...He became my best friend, he was the best person I’d ever met.  So kind and gentle…”  Jean trailed off with a wistful sigh, and Marco couldn’t help the smallest curl of jealousy for the boy that Jean had joined the military with.

   “Well, uh, we made a pact to join the MP together, y’know?  Both of us or neither.  But...The night before graduation, we were attacked…”  Jean’s voice trembled slightly, and he swiped a hand viciously around his eyes, smearing tiny tears that had just barely escaped.  “He used to faint under pressure, and I just…”  He sighed tiredly, his shoulders hunching forward.  He looked so much older to Marco, in that moment, and his heart broke for him.

   Marco wasn’t sure if it was best to reach out and offer physical comfort to Jean, or to sit there silently with him.  Tentatively, as Jean was wiping away more tears, Marco reached out to pat his arm sympathetically.  Jean froze under his touch, and Marco held his breath, until the tension in Jean’s body seemed to almost melt away from the point of contact.  Like a cat seeking affection, Jean leaned up against Marco’s side, who immediately wrapped his arms around Jean in a tight, warm hug.  They stayed like that for a few beats, until Jean shifted slightly and “accidentally” smeared tears (and probably snot as well) into Marco’s shoulder.  He incoherently mumbled something that could’ve been an apology, which made Marco roll his eyes as he made the vocal approximation of a shrug.  More silence reigned, surprisingly comfortable and only broken by Jean’s occasional sniffling, before he took a deep, rattling breath to calm himself.

   “...M’sorry,” Jean mumbled, pressing the words into Marco’s chest before gently extracting himself from the hug.  Marco opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t get a word in before Jean continued.  “I know it’s a weird thing to get shook up over, but…”  He trailed off again, unsure of how to explain the almighty  _ terror _ that hearing Marco fall had stirred up in him. He let out an annoyed noise, and not-so-gently laid his head on Marco’s shoulder.  Marco let out an understanding sort of hum as he patted Jean’s shoulder, in what he hoped was perceived as a comforting way.

  “It’s fine, you’re okay,” Marco murmured, just barely stopping himself from placing a kiss on the top of Jean’s head.  “You’ve had a long day.  Gimmie a few minutes to make the bed, and you can rest.  You’ll feel better after a nap, yeah?”  Jean raised his head off of Marco’s shoulder as the other man spoke, rubbing a watery eye and blinking blearily at him with the other.   _ He’s so cute, _ Marco thought, biting his tongue to make sure he didn’t blurt that out like an idiot, and he slowly unwound his arm from where it had (somehow) ended up draping around Jean’s waist, so he could finish making the bed.  It was sloppy and rushed, and Marco only halfheartedly stuffed the new pillow into the pillowcase that matched the clean sheets, but it would have to do.

   Jean hadn’t moved from where he sat on the floor, still picking aimlessly at the clothes still piled on the floor.  Marco could literally  _ feel _ the bubbly beginnings of a crush trying to worm its way around his belly, as he paused to watch Jean halfheartedly fold one of his flannel shirts, somehow appearing really damn cute as he did.  It was made marginally less cute when Jean sniffled and indiscreetly wiped his nose on the shirt he’d just folded.  Marco let out a little snorting noise, which made Jean jump and glare accusingly at him (as if  _ Marco _ was the one who had wiped his nose on Jean’s shirt!), before shakily getting to his feet as Marco waved for him to get up.

   Jean eyed Marco’s bed suspiciously, as if he’d never seen something so soft for sleeping before (which, for all Marco knew, he really hadn’t had such a bed where he was from).  While Jean was warily nudging the mattress with his knee, shifting it along the box spring underneath it, Marco shoved the pile of clothes back into the closet.  The shirt that Jean had wiped his nose on, however, was tossed into the laundry basket with the dirty sheets.

   “Where’re you going to be sleeping?”  Jean asked.  Marco frowned slightly as he turned to face Jean, who was half standing with one knee up on the bed, before shrugging slightly.

   “I’m gonna take the couch, unless I can find my old sleeping ba-”

   “That’s stupid,” Jean said bluntly, cutting Marco off with a frown of his own as he folded his arms.  “Your bed is fucking huge, there’s plenty of room for both of us.”  It was a very reasonable argument, one that Marco had even told himself earlier, but…

   “You’d be fine sharing with me?”  Marco wanted to clarify.  Jean looked at him weirdly, like it had never occurred to him to not be okay with sharing a bed.

   “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” Jean said flatly.  Then his eyes rounded for a second, as he seemed to hear the double meaning that could’ve been inferred from that, and backtracked hastily.  “It’d be weird for me to not share a bed.  The SC only had so many, and the last time I didn’t share one was after M...My friend died.  Though, I do understand if you don’t want to.”  He was rambling, and Marco had to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.  So, with a slight shrug, Marco tossed his pillow (which was still in the pillowcase that matched the dirty sheets) back onto the bed beside Jean’s.  

   “Now that that’s settled,” Marco said, “I’m going to put away the pizza.  I’m tired as hell, and could use a nap too,” He mumbled the last bit, before yawning unwillingly as he padded out of the bedroom, wondering if there was any way to consolidate the three boxes of pizza somehow.  Well, he could just  _ eat _ another slice, of course…

   Jean couldn’t help a tired (and relieved) smile as Marco left, before immediately heading over to the large pile of shopping bags that contained all of Jean’s possessions.  He shuffled around, trying to find the bag that held the pyjama set that Marco had picked out for him, and let out a small triumphant noise when he found it.  They weren’t anything special, just a plain cotton shirt with matching shorts, but they  _ were _ special because  _ Marco _ had picked them out.   _ Jean’s _ Marco had picked it, even if he didn’t...Couldn’t...Jean shook his head rapidly, knocking the melancholy thoughts hovering like stormclouds out of his head.  Bedtime, he was supposed to be getting ready for bed.   _ And no more shitty thoughts, _ Jean berated himself as he shimmied into the pyjamas.  Did his heart do a teeny tiny flip because they smelled like Marco’s fresh laundry?  That was Jean’s business, even if he couldn’t suppress the tiniest of smiles as he flopped heavily onto the bed (that felt a million times better than any bed he’d been laying on in  _ years). _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh! good morning! just two more chapters left after this one! tbh i really love this chapter, there's more information about how Historia was able to get Jean across, and the network that's in place to help him and other settle within modern times.
> 
> all the art for this fic~  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 7](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149871729706/drawing-4-for-snkminibang-from-the-second)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 8](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149871808576/drawing-5-for-snkminibang-from-the-second)  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)

   Marco was stalling.  He knew that, as he fiddled with the pizza slices to try and make them all fit into two boxes instead of three, but was that going to stop him from stalling?  Probably not.  Besides, he kind of had a good reason for it:  It’s not like every day, Marco would somehow acquire an attractive man, and then agree to sleep next to that man for the next  _ week. _  Plus, Jean was probably putting on his pyjamas, he had to at least give the guy the  _ smallest _ amount of privacy.  (Even though Marco had spent a whole two minutes debating with himself over how creepy it was to actually peek in on Jean.  He had eventually come to the conclusion that it was way too creepy, and he felt like a criminal for even  _ considering _ it.)  So, it only helped with the effort of stalling, when Marco’s phone started buzzing and screaming Ymir’s ringtone, which was just Historia saying “Tori’s phone is probably dead which is why you’re getting a call” repeatedly, and he lunged for it.

   “Hey, Tori, what’s up?”  Marco asked faux casually, but glad that she had called so he could attempt to ask her about all the shit that had happened today.  There was a bit of shuffling, as if the phone had been set down before the call connected, but eventually Historia answered him.

   “Hey Marmar!  Just wanted to see how you and Jean were doing!”  She said brightly.  Marco could even imagine the smug look on her face, as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a sigh.

   “I still have no clue what the hell you were thinking when you  _ gave me a guy in a bath bomb, _ but...I think Jean likes it here?  Like, I could be wrong, but I have a feeling.  He’s napping right now at least,”  Marco paused for a second when he noticed the time on the microwave, 10pm, and groand slightly.  

   “Well, it  _ was _ more for Jean’s benefit than yours, honestly.  He’s been stuck on the edge of his universe for around three years, and even if he hasn’t aged in that time, it still probably sucked.”  Historia sighed.  “I feel terrible that I couldn’t get him out sooner, but magic on that scale needs time to recharge…”  She trailed off with another sigh, and Marco could almost feel how tired she felt.  Which was kind of strange, for Marco at least:  Historia always came off as having boundless energy, a positive vibe that couldn’t be killed even by the most sour and energy-lacking of persons.  But he also wondered, what the hell would feel like to  _ be _ stuck on the edge of a universe?  He hadn’t even believed in multiple universes yesterday, yet today it was being talked about as factually as rain making people wet.  And he had Historia on the line, the one person who possibly could explain all of this a little bit more to him.

   “Tori, how does someone get stuck on the edge of their universe?”  Marco asked cautiously.  He almost dreaded the answer, especially when Historia let out a noise of distress, and he wondered if she was able to answer the question.  He was going to tell her that it was fine, she didn’t have to tell him, as there was rustling noises on the other end of the line, and what sounded like pages being flipped.  Was she consulting a book?

   “You’re on speaker now,” Historia said, a little distantly, still flipping through the pages to find what she was looking for.  “Okay, uh, full disclosure?  We aren’t entirely sure.  Dr. Zoe’s guess is something to do with souls, if they exist, and the strength of connections between some as opposed to others.  Basically mumbo-jumbo if you ask me,”  She made the vocal equivalent of a shrug, before continuing.  “Though, we do know that the only way to get someone that was stuck on the edge of their universe, is that they died in their universe.  Thankfully, those that had...Erm,  _ gruesome _ deaths, they come here with whole bodies.  Any nonfatal injuries, and scars and stuff, they’re still there.  But anything that was fatal or caused their death doesn’t come over with them, which is pretty neat.  Would’ve put a damper on things if Jean, Connie, and Mikasa didn’t get here whole.”  Historia let out a nervous laugh as she flipped a few more pages of her book again.  

   Marco blinked a few times as he tried to take in this new information.  He had known that Jean wasn’t the only one from the other universe to get here.  Obviously, Connie, but...He didn’t expect Mikasa.  But then again, he’d never expected Connie either.  Who else of their friends had come from the other universe?  How many others had to die to get here?  The thought made Marco’s blood run cold, so he forced himself out of his thoughts, to catch the tail end of whatever Historia was talking about.

   “...Nanaba said that they’d have most of Jean’s papers ready by Wednesday, hopefully.  Mr. Smith is super excited to help Jean get his bearings around here, but I think Levi might be more excited, even if he won’t show it.  Like, he  _ was _ Jean’s captain and all,”  She chattered on with forced cheer in her tone.  Marco, though, was completely lost.

   “Nanaba, Levi, Mr. Smith, Dr. Zoe?  How many people know about people like Jean?”  Marco asked, feeling more than a little anxious.  Wouldn’t it be more prudent to keep his existence a secret?  Technically, Jean wasn’t a legal citizen of  _ anywhere, _ and Marco really didn’t want to know what’d happen to him if the wrong people learned about that.  Historia made a loud, disgruntled noise at him.

   “If you, y’know, actually paid attention while I was  _ talking, _ maybe you would know,” She snipped.

   “Cut me some slack.  This is a whole lot of weird shit I have to get used to,” Marco mumbled.  He felt bad enough for not listening in the first place, but the loud ‘tsk’ that Historia clucked at him made him feel even worse.

   “You’re getting a lot more time to take it all in than I did.  Frieda asked me to summon someone with her when I was ten, without explaining anything before that, and  _ you’re _ having a hard time taking it in?  Pff...But, lemme say, there’s  _ a lot _ of people from the other universe.  Like,  _ a lot _ a lot.  Mr. Smith’s whole company is almost exclusively staffed by people from there, to help them get adjusted to here.  Nanaba’s our official documents forger, they’ve been doing it for the past ten years for us.  Dr. Zoe is a psychiatrist and has a few psychologist friends that they can refer our newest universe transfers to, which like, all of them have needed.  Shit’s fucked up back there.  And Levi is someone that was highly ranked in the Survey Corps, nearly everyone that we’ve gotten over here has cried while shaking his hand, he’s like a damn hero or something.  Freida and I aren’t the only two who can transfer people over at least.  That shit would  _ really _ suck, especially considering just how many damn people there are still waiting to get here...At least it’s only humans we can bring.”  Historia let out another laugh, a much more relieved sound than the one she’d made earlier.  

   Marco blinked slowly as he tried to absorb everything that Historia was saying.  So, there were  _ definitely _ a lot more people that came from the other universe than their friends.  There were so many people from there that there was an entire team set up to get them onto their feet here.  Marco could handle that.  He  _ wanted _ to be at least a part of Jean’s support team, if nothing else.  And Jean had more than likely been through something mentally scarring, if what Historia said was applicable to Jean.  (Seeing as she had also said Levi was his captain, and something about Survey Corps when Jean had mentioned something called the MP earlier...It probably did apply to him.)  However, Marco was more than a little bit concerned by the last thing she had said, remembering the conversation he had tried not to hear when Connie had come over.

   “...Earlier, Connie and Jean were talking about things called titans.  I don’t think they were talking about like, Greek mythology titans, so like...What are they?  Are they the things you’re glad you can’t bring over from the other universe?”  Marco held his breath after he asked, and bit at his lower lip.  There was another grumbling noise, followed by pages being turned, and a long silence.  Marco was starting to wonder if the call had been dropped by the time Historia finally said something.  

   “Okay, still full disclosure?  You aren’t going to like this,” She said, more seriously than Marco had ever heard her sound.  But he waited patiently for her to continue, and was rewarded with a long sigh.  “Okay.  So.  Think...Big, giant, weirdly proportioned, naked, no genitalia people. Like that sounds really ridiculous when you say it like that, but....They ate humans.  And not like, ate them entirely just until they were no longer hungry.  Like, they’d take a chunk out of a person and toss them to the ground, and they’d keep eating until they puked.  They don’t have a digestive system, so it’s not even like they  _ needed _ to eat to exist…”  She trailed off, but Marco could get the picture that she’d vividly painted.  He wobbled over to the loveseat and sat down heavily as he processed this.  Historia was silent, and didn’t seem that inclined to keep talking.  Eventually, Marco broke the silence.

   “So...Monsters.  That ate people for fun?”  Marco wasn’t sure what sort of dream world he was part of anymore, but the weirdness of the day was starting to take a toll on him.  Historia made an affirmative noise, but she didn’t speak again, as if explaining it had made her tired.  Which, it probably had; hell, Marco was tired just  _ listening _ to it all.  He couldn’t imagine having to learn all of this faster, and then have to do the actual magic that Historia did, along with whatever other magic she was up to.  He had a newfound respect for his sister’s girlfriend.

   “I’ll let you go for now, okay?”  Historia said faintly, and Marco realized he’d almost let the phone slip out of his hands as he spaced out.

   “Okay, uhm, yeah...Thanks for telling me all this, Tori,”  Marco said sincerely.  He’d have to figure out some way to thank her for all of this sometime, especially with how often lately he’d been ignoring what she was saying.  Historia let out a noise that she’d heard him, and then the call ended.  Marco blindly pressed the screen of his phone, even though the end call button had disappeared, and he let his head fall back against the loveseat for a minute.  With a groan, he realized that the pizzas were all still out on the counter, and he slowly stood to put them away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaaaa we're close to the end! I'm gonna miss this fic, honestly. I don't think I'll be able to write more fics within this AU, just because of time constraints and all the other fics I want to work on, but...
> 
> Artwork featured for this chapter: [smutindevelopment's ch 7 art~](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149871729706/drawing-4-for-snkminibang-from-the-second)
> 
> Other artwork for this fic:  
> [emelianss' art for ch 5](http://emelianss.tumblr.com/post/149952558951/yoo-here-it-is-finally-my-first-drawing-for-the)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 8](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149871808576/drawing-5-for-snkminibang-from-the-second)  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)

    When Marco poked his head into his bedroom, the only light streaming in through the window’s sheer curtains, Jean was snoring lightly, and curled on his side facing the door.  Marco carefully slipped into the room, feet shuffling against the carpet and knocking into plastic shards scattered around the floor (he made a mental note to break out the vacuum tomorrow morning), wary of stray cords on his way to his dresser.  Either he had cleaned up earlier, or Jean had picked up the tangle of loose wires that usually cluttered his floor, making it successfully to the dresser without tripping.  It felt almost like victory as he rifled through the clothes folded up in there, grabbing a pair of plaid sleep pants and a white tank top.  He was halfway out of his jeans, the shirt he had been wearing already tossed haphazardly towards the laundry basket, when he heard a sleepy mumble from Jean, who had rolled away from the light streaming in from the hallway.  Slightly panicked, Marco realized he should’ve changed in the bathroom instead, stumbling out of the jeans that were bunched up at his feet, as he tugged the clean shirt over his head, and crashed loudly into the dresser.  Somehow, Jean stayed asleep (or pretended to sleep) through all the noise, as Marco finally pulled his pants on with a sigh, relieved at not being caught pantsless.

    Even though he was tired, Marco was now hyper aware of his surroundings, as he hurried to the hallway to turn off the light, and slowly shuffled over to the unoccupied side of his bed.  The last time that he had platonically shared a bed with someone, after coming out, had been with Annie, back in high school.  She had fallen asleep on him after crying and apologizing to him for something that didn’t make sense to him at the time.  (But, Marco realized, it made sense now, knowing that there was another universe.  Had Annie been from there?)  Nothing else had happened that night, and eventually Annie had squirmed away from his body heat in the middle of the night, and had climbed out of his second-floor bedroom window without another word on the matter.  Logically, Marco knew that something like that probably would not happen with Jean (they were on the fifth floor of the building, after all), but he felt...Anxious, that something was going to happen during the night.  Marco wondered, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he stared down at Jean’s sleeping form, if he should just take the loveseat instead.  He wouldn’t have to wonder about waking up next to a man he didn’t really know, then.

    As soon as Marco had decided he was going to sleep in the living room, and picked up his pillow from the bed, Jean let out another mumbling noise and rolled towards him.  The moonlight spilling in from the window lit Jean’s face softly, the sharp lines of his face softened as he slept peacefully, and Marco couldn’t help a sigh.  He was just...So pretty, and Marco knew there was no stopping the crush he’d felt growing earlier.   _ Especially _ not when Jean frowned slightly in his sleep, an arm stretched out towards the empty side of the bed as he sleepily mumbled something that could’ve been the word “cuddle”.  And, well, how could Marco refuse a request like that?

    Putting all of his worries into the back of his mind, Marco eased his way under the sheets next to Jean.  Once he was actually under the sheets, though, Marco wasn’t sure if he should reach out and make good on Jean’s demand of getting closer.  The other man’s hand was lying closer to Marco, and he couldn’t help but reach out and carefully cover it with his own.  Jean’s hand was cold, and his fingers twitched slightly underneath Marco’s, but he remained asleep and relaxed.  Marco absentmindedly stroked Jean’s hand as he let his eyes shut, and be lulled to sleep by Jean’s steady breathing.

 

* * *

  
  


    Marco’s eyelids felt heavy as they fluttered open, unsure about why, exactly, he was awake.  His bladder didn’t feel full, nor was there anything crawling on him, so there wasn’t any reason for him to be up now.  Just as he let his eyes close again, Jean let out a tiny whimper, and the bed shifted slightly.  Marco forced his eyes open, and rolled onto his side to look at Jean, who had apparently twisted around in the sheets until he was facing Marco.  In the dim light, he could just barely see the way Jean’s face was twisted up, and the sheen of sweat that coated the other man’s face.  A nightmare, Marco assumed, as Jean whimpered again, possibly a word that sounded like “no”, as he continued to tangle himself in the sheets.

  The jostling of the bed woke Marco up even more, as Jean’s nightmare seemed to get worse.  He seemed to be alternating between curling up as tightly as possible, and reaching for Marco, all while mumbling or mouthing broken phrases like “please don’t” or “not again”.  Marco bit his lip as his sluggish brain worked, trying to figure out what was best to do.  Maybe if he woke up Jean, he’d be willing to talk about the nightmare?  Even if he didn’t want to talk, Marco could at least temporarily get him out of a shitty dream.  Deciding on that course of action, Marco sat up the tiniest bit and reached over to shake Jean awake, just as Jean mumbled “Marco, please”, and reached out for him.

   Now that...That wasn’t anywhere  _ near _ what Marco was expecting, and he froze with a hand hovering over Jean’s shoulder.  Jean squirmed across the bed slowly, as Marco watched the sweat beading on his forehead, brain still processing that apparently he was somehow involved in Jean’s nightmare.  While Marco’s brain was still trying to catch up, Jean ended up pressing himself warmly against him with a rumbling sigh of “not again”.  Marco let his arm fall over Jean’s shoulder, feeling like cotton balls had essentially been shoved into his mouth.  Eventually, swallowing against the dryness, Marco was able to rasp out a few reassuring words that seemed to help Jean relax.

    “You’re safe, whatever happened isn’t going on right now,”  Marco croaked, as Jean curled tightly against his chest.  He dazedly rubbed at Jean’s back, hoping that that would be comforting to him, and feeling more than a little bit please as Jean slowly started to loosen up.  He was still mumbling, though, sometimes mouth moving inaudibly against Marco’s chest, and it seemed as though his nightmare was ending, or at least getting better.  He was sure of it, at least until Jean started tensing up again, his hands balling up into fists that held tightly to Marco’s shirt.

    “No...Leaving again...Marco, don’t,”  Jean slurred, his voice heavy and slow, but Marco could clearly identify those words.  He felt them more than heard them, pressed into his chest, and it felt like an electric current had started running through his body.  Jean was having a nightmare about him leaving?  Again?  Marco hadn’t left Jean alone for most of the day, why would he be having a nightmare about Marco leaving him?  Marco tried to look down at him, only to get a faceful of Jean’s soft blond hair, that still vaguely smelled of lavender.  When Jean shivered again, Marco pressed his lips to the top of Jean’s head, and sighed.

    “I got you.  I’m not leaving you,” He murmured firmly into Jean’s hair.  Jean shivered again, and hooked an ankle around Marco’s own, as Marco continued to press comforting words into his hair.  Slowly but surely, Jean started to relax again, until his hands were merely curled up against Marco’s chest, and no longer digging into the fabric.  Marco squinted at him suspiciously for a minute, when he didn’t unhook his ankle or start squirming back to the other side of the bed, but...Was it really such a hardship for Marco to fall asleep while cuddling an insanely attractive man?  Especially when said man  _ explicitly _ asked for Marco not to leave him?  Signs pointed to no, as Marco felt his eyelids growing heavy once more, and he let himself drift back to sleep with the sound of Jean’s breathing and the warmth of his body pressing against him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are!!!! the final chapter!!! gosh, I'm really gonna miss this fic. it was such a pleasure to write it...
> 
> art featured for this chapter:  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 8](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149871808576/drawing-5-for-snkminibang-from-the-second)
> 
> more art for this fic:  
> [emelianss' art for ch 5](http://emelianss.tumblr.com/post/149952558951/yoo-here-it-is-finally-my-first-drawing-for-the)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 7](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149871729706/drawing-4-for-snkminibang-from-the-second)

    Marco woke up feeling warm.  Not the “I forgot to close the curtains and now the sun is burning me”-sort of warm, but closer to the “holy FUCK, I’m sweating my balls off, did the heater break?”-sort of warm.  It was uncomfortable and he was sticky with sweat, and he was stuck to someone whose hair was tickling his nose.  Marco lifted his head, not wanting to sneeze, and blinked down at Jean, who was slowly waking up as well.  The pale light of dawn was just starting to creep into the bedroom as Marco took back the arm that had been wrapped around Jean to rub at his eyes.

    “G’morning,” Jean yawned at Marco, followed by a ridiculously soft smile.  He didn’t seem at all bothered by waking up cuddled against the chest of a stranger he had only met the day before.  Marco answered with a yawn of his own, not really awake to do much else, just as Jean leaned forward to leave a trail of sloppy kisses down his throat.  His jaw clicked shut, alarm bells blaring in his brain as he almost bit his tongue, and he leaned away from Jean with a drawn-out sound of confusion.  Jean returned that noise as he looked up, eyes hazy with sleep and confusion, before he pushed himself up onto his elbows to be level with Marco.

    “Wassamatter Marco?  Don’t you like…”  He trailed off as he woke up more, his confusion almost palpable as his eyes flickered around the room.  Marco was expecting all sorts of scenarios when they woke up, but he wasn’t expecting for Jean to get sad.  But, well, with how weird things had been lately, maybe he should’ve expected it.  “You’re not the right Marco,” Jean breathed out as he let his head  _ thwump _ back into the pillow.

    Marco shuffled back as far as he could without falling backwards off the bed to give Jean some space.  He wasn’t sure what to say to Jean about that.  He was, after all, the only Marco Jean had met since getting here...Was Jean thinking about a Marco from the universe he was from?  Was that the Marco that Jean had been talking about in his sleep?  Jean lifted his head from the pillow without prompting, and scrubbed a hand down his face harshly, forcing himself into a sitting position as he scooted back along the bed so Marco could stop hanging off the edge of the bed.

    “Shit, sorry about that.  I guess my brain had a hard time catching up to being here,” Jean squeaked with a high pitched laugh.  Marco hummed noncommittally (not wanting to admit to himself or Jean that he  _ really _ hadn’t minded Jean’s immediate reaction to waking up was,) as he shimmied back onto the bed.

    “So what was the Marco from your universe like?”  He attempted to casually ask.  He couldn’t help the tiniest thread of jealousy though:  Jean  _ had _ a Marco, a Marco that he’d at least had some sort of  _ thing _ with.  Enough of a  _ thing _ to be waking up next to each other and comfortable enough to share sloppy morning kisses.  But Marco knew immediately that he’d fucked up when Jean looked away and bit his lip, and practically tripped over himself to fix it.  “Uh!  You don’t have to tell me, of course!  You were having nightmares and you were asking about him and not leaving again and...Shit, I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me anything.”  Marco wanted to smash his head into the wall as he babbled, especially as Jean just looked more forlorn the longer he spoke.  But at the reminder that Jean didn’t have to tell him anything, he laughed bitterly and shook his head.

    “You at least deserve some sort of explanation, last night sounds like it was pretty shitty,” Jean sighed as he ran a hand through his messy hair.  Before Marco could reassure him that it wasn’t necessary, Jean was speaking again.  “Okay, so like...Remember how yesterday I mentioned my best friend?  From training?”  He paused and Marco bobbed his head a few times, then continued.  “His name was Marco Bodt-” Marco felt like the air had been punched out of his chest for a second “-and I...Well I loved him, but I never got the chance to really tell him that.  There’s no time for romance when you’re training to kill titans, even if there is time for a handie or two between best friends before bed.”  Jean let out a sour laugh as he looked fiercely at the ceiling for a minute.  Marco’s brain, however, was stuck on the name Jean had said.

    “But...I’m Marco Bodt.”  He said mildly.  Jean let out a slight snort, abandoning counting the number of irregularities in the ceiling to look at Marco fondly, if exasperatedly.

    “You are.  So was he.  As far as I can tell, you both looked, acted, and sounded the same.  But that’s just from me knowing you for a day, and knowing  _ him _ for three years...I almost feel like...You and him were the same person…”  Jean mused, resting an elbow against his knee and placing his chin in that hand.  Marco blinked slowly, his brain trying to process Jean’s idea, that  _ he was also from the other universe, _ but it just wasn’t happening.

    “Coffee,” He blurted out eventually and rolled out of bed.  “Coffee will fix everything,” Marco reassured himself as he stumbled out of the room, leaving a very confused Jean to sit in the middle of the bed and watch him go.  Jean’s theory was a little overwhelming, first thing in the morning, but he had obviously put a lot of thought into it.  Probably before bed last night, Marco realized, as he wobbled into the kitchen.  But he needed time to wake up, before Marco could even start  _ considering _ Jean’s theory.

 

* * *

 

    Jean was...Definitely nervous.  He had sat, waiting, on Marco’s bed for what felt like an eternity (it had only been about ten minutes), before his bladder had insisted he get up.  He scuttled quickly across the hall, forcing himself to not bound into the kitchen where Marco was probably lurking, as well as ignoring the scent of fresh coffee that made Jean’s nose twitch.  But once he was done with the bathroom, Jean followed his nose easily to the kitchen, where Marco was leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand.  When he spotted Jean, Marco smiled a little bit, and nodded at the tiny coffee machine that had just enough brewed for Jean to have a cup.  There was an empty mug near the machine, that Jean helped himself to, as Marco started to speak.

    “So...That was quite a theory you have,”  He mumbled into his overly sweetened coffee.  Jean hummed as he took a sip from his mug, sighing as the bitter taste burned his tongue.  Silence settled around them, only punctuated by a slurp of coffee every few seconds.  Marco, Jean had known, was a master of avoiding things he didn’t want to do.  It almost made Jean nostalgic, avoiding talking about what they should probably talk about.  Jean was going to break the silence after his next sip, but Marco apparently beat him to it as he put his empty coffee cup on the counter and turned to face Jean.

    “Okay, so we both don’t know certainly if I’m the same Marco Bodt that you knew,” He started.  Jean nodded, momentarily distracted by how Marco’s hair was fluffier than it had been when they woke up beside each other.  Probably from running his hands through his hair, Jean mused, and he  _ ached _ to be allowed to run his fingers through Marco’s hair again.  He knew he couldn’t keep projecting his feelings onto this Marco, but he still wanted things that hadn’t existed for  _ years. _  Jean took a large gulp of coffee to cover that he’d partially zoned out, focusing back on Marco as he spoke.

    “-ow, I think I’d like to get to know you.  Even if I’m not the Marco you knew, I do like you.  But of course, it’s up to you,” Marco said hastily.  Jean had been staring at him as he spoke, with a melancholy expression on his face, and it was unnerving.  He just wanted to know if Jean would want to learn about  _ him. _  The Marco Bodt from Jean’s universe was long gone, and he knew that once Jean rejected his offer, that he would get over it.  But he didn’t have anything to worry about, as Jean’s expression brightened even as he attempted to hide his smile behind his mug.

    “I think I like the way you think, Bodt,” Jean said with a laugh.  Without a second thought on it, Jean leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against Marco’s.   _ He tastes like sugar, _ Jean thought dazedly for half a second, and couldn’t help smiling into the kiss.  Then Jean’s brain caught up, and he jumped back guiltily.  “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I just...Fuck, that’s not how our first kiss should’ve been,” Jean nearly dropped his mug as he scrambled to put it on the counter and apologize.  Marco was blinking at him, and Jean couldn’t help poking his tongue out to lick his lips, tasting second-hand sugar.  A slow, pleased grin grew on Marco’s face as he reached for Jean, tugging him closer until they were chest to chest.

    “So you want a do-over of our first kiss?  That can be arranged,” Marco said conversationally as he cupped Jean’s cheek.  Jean went to open his mouth to say, yeah, that was a shitty first kiss, only for Marco’s lips to press against his own.  It was just as soft and warm as Jean had hoped, and his toes curled in delight against the slightly chilly kitchen tiles.  And maybe they stayed there, in the kitchen with their mouths pressed together, kisses breaking only to form words of wonder and endearment against the other’s lips, long enough for the tiny bit of coffee left in Jean’s mug to go ice cold.  Maybe they spent the day curled around each other, sharing stories and mapping the scars that went along with those stories on the other’s body.  And maybe, just maybe, Jean started to feel like he was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> thank y'all very much for reading! comments, kudos, any sort of feedback is A+++! and please, don't forget to check out the gorgeous art that [smutindevelopment](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/), [vanitas--vanilla](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/), and [emelianss](http://emelianss.tumblr.com/) have all made!
> 
> links to their specific art will be added in later<3  
> [emelianss' art for ch 5 is here!](http://emelianss.tumblr.com/post/149952558951/yoo-here-it-is-finally-my-first-drawing-for-the)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 1 is here!](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149651951626/aaaand-the-snk-2016-minibang-has-started-up)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 2 is here!](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149701974321/drawing-2-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [smutindevelopment's art for ch 3 is here!](http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/post/149748387361/drawing-3-for-snkminibang-from-the-second-chapter)  
> [vanitas--vanilla's art for ch 8 is here!](http://vanitas--vanilla.tumblr.com/post/149661093178/ey-look-its-my-piece-for-the-snk-minibang-my)


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